I sat cross-legged on my bed, spine straight, palms resting on my knees. The old yakuza breathing techniques came back like muscle memory. In through the nose, hold for four counts, out through the mouth. Again. Again. Again.
The silence felt like a luxury.
No Natalia plotting something violent in the corner. No Emi stress-baking enough carbs to feed a small army. No Skylar pretending not to care while clearly caring too much. No Cel asking questions with those periwinkle eyes that saw straight through my bullshit. No Akari making everything a game I didn't remember agreeing to play.
No Maki, which honestly felt like the biggest victory of all.
The catgirl had tried three separate times to sneak back in after I'd bribed her with expensive tuna to spend the night literally anywhere else. The third attempt had involved transforming into her cat form and climbing through the window, which would've worked if I hadn't spotted those glowing hazel eyes in the darkness.
